Found and Found Again
by SciFiRN
Summary: E/O CHALLENGE. Dean's not feeling so good, but Sam drags him out to hunt...again. Happy Birthday Mad Server!


DISCLAIMER: No matter how hard I wish, they still aren't mine…

PROMPT/LENGTH: Dean has a fever

WARNINGS/SPOILERS: Yeah...way over even the 1000 word limit, but hey, it's a present!

NOTE: Happy Birthday Mad Server and since you asked a while back for the continuation of _Found_…here it is.

**Found and Found Again**

"Sam, so help me if this isn't life or death I'll make sure it is when I'm standing over your body." Dean pried his red-rimmed eyes open and glared across the room at his brother.

"It's gonna strike again tonight Dean. We've got to stop it." Sam looked up from his laptop and shook his head. "And don't you dare bitch about your headache. I told you not to do those last three shots."

Dean groaned and rolled away from the window as he pulled the blanket over his head. The light was driving nails into his head. "Why should I believe you this time?" He sniffled and winced when he swallowed. His throat was raw. "I mean you said the thing was supposed to attack last week and we spent the entire night shivering and up to our ankles in muck while we tried to stay dry." He stretched and nestled back under the covers when the memory sent a shiver through him. "Maybe it moved on. Come on Sam, it's supposed to be even colder tonight."

"Yeah, but it's not supposed to rain." Sam stood and moved to his brother's bed. "Look." He sat beside Dean. "I'm pretty sure it's a Scrithan Sceadugenga."

Realizing he wasn't going to be allowed to sleep, Dean sat up to lean against the headboard. He squinted at his brother. "What the hell is a screeching she-a-dude thingy?"

Eyes rolled as he pushed the computer to his brother. "Screeth-an shaya-doog-anga," He sounded it out slowly. "It's also called a Dark Shadow Dweller. They're Celtic, Grendel was probably some form of one of them."

Dean smiled. "Beowulf kicked ass."

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Dude, I know how to read." Dean shoved the covers from his chest and stood carefully. His stomach didn't protest, but everything else did. His head pounded in concert with his heart. The muscles of his calves felt like he'd run fifteen miles, they were so tight and sore. His throat burned and his head felt heavy. He refused to acknowledge that he was sick. He grunted. "Shower, food and then we'll figure out how to kill a Shadow Dweller."

"Food? You're actually hungry?" Sam shut the laptop and moved to the small table in their room. He slid the computer into his backpack. "I figured you'd be puking your guts up by now."

Dean scratched his chest absently. "Dude, I'm fine. Got a little headache and I'm sore from fighting with those guys two nights ago, but I'm good." He kicked open the bathroom door. "Give me fifteen and I'll be ready." He shut the door.

An hour later, the boys were sitting in a diner. Sam sipped coffee while he studied an area map. Their best bet was the low-lying boggy area. The creature had struck at different times, mostly during the full moon, which is why Sam assumed it was related to the lunar cycle, and it was; sort of. If it wouldn't have rained last week, the thing would have shown. They needed shadows. No bright moon meant no deep shadows. He looked over to his brother and frowned.

Dean sat, one elbow on the table, head leaning heavily on his hand. His other hand held a forkful of blue berry pie. The fork hovered two inches above the half-eaten pie; thick drops of berry goodness and melting ice cream running back onto the plate below. Dean didn't let ice cream melt into his pie. He didn't like it when the crust got soggy.

Sam frowned, something was wrong. "You sure you're alright?"

Dean startled and the fork fell back to the plate sending small, sticky, blue and white drops onto the table. He nodded. "I'm good. Tired as hell, but fine."

Sam shook his head and eyed the messy pile of melted ice cream and pie. "You're fine? But your pie sits in a puddle of melted ice cream." He smirked. "You are so not good."

Dean pulled his cup toward him and filled it with fresh coffee from the small pot. He sat back against the booth and wrapped his hands around the mug. He let the heat sink into his skin as he let the steam and heat bathe his face. He was already cold and they hadn't even been in the woods yet. He sipped the coffee and prayed the ibuprofen would kick in.

By the time they made their way to the marsh, Dean couldn't pretend he wasn't sick, but he could pretend it wasn't bad. He wiped his nose and glared when Sam offered to take him back to the motel. He had a cold, that was all and he already knew whose fault that was. He told Sam that and was rewarded with a very scientific explanation about cold not causing colds and how it was those new fandangled things called germs.

"Ha-ha, bitch." He pulled the shotgun from the trunk with a sigh. "This thing better show man or else…"

Sam snorted and grabbed his own weapons. From what they could find, it shouldn't be hard to kill this thing, but it was strong and thick skinned and dangerous. Oh, and it would eat you once it caught you.

Sam pointed left. "I'll go that way, you go the other and we'll circle around the pond." He glanced up at the sky and nodded. "It should show soon, the moon's high enough."

Dean grunted and moved off the right. "Holler if you see it. Don't try to take it out by yourself."

Sam's voice came from a short distance away. "You too. Be careful jerk."

"Yeah."

Dean moved into the murky dampness, alert for sign of The-Thing-He-Could-Not-Pronounce. He paused halfway around the pond and wiped his drippy nose on his sleeve. _Sure Sam, let's tromp through the woods, in the dark, in the middle of winter and hope the unknown monster attacks_. His sneeze shook him as he leaned against the tree and shivered. He wished he'd paid attention to the bank thermometer before they'd driven from town.

He heard something shuffle and shift in the leaves. He spun and saw a blur of motion, then he hit the ground, teeth rattling as a sharp pain shot up his side.

"Sammy!" He scrambled for the shotgun that skittered from his hand. "Found it."

He managed to get his fingertips on the barrel of the gun, but then the thing landed on his back. All air left his lungs in a woosh and he lay stunned, trying to relax against the sudden urge to inhale deep. He waited for the thing to attack, but it didn't.

His breath hitched as he drew in air and then he moved again toward the gun. He could hear Sam coming through the undergrowth and his eyes darted around the small clearing looking for the monster.

It sat deep in a shadow beneath an old fallen log and it was ready to strike. It was waiting for Sam to come through the brush.

Dean's heart stopped, as in slow motion, Sam broke free of the woods.

The creature moved, a flicker of light and it was on Sam, taking him to the ground with an unearthly scream.

Dean pulled the gun to him and sat up. He ignored the pain that sliced up his side when he moved. He ignored the blackness that closed in around him and he ignored the sudden nausea that made him gag. He raised the gun, waited for his shot and fired.

Silence fell in the clearing.

"Sam!" Dean forced himself toward the tangle of human and less human limbs, all the while demanding Sam be okay. "Dammit Sam, answer me." He grunted as he fell beside them and then rolled the Shadow Dweller from his brother.

The monster stared up at him with vacant eyes. "Mother fucker." Dean shoved the corpse aside, noting the clean shot, right through the forehead. "Sam?" Dean's voice was panicked and thin.

Sam grunted and rolled over, his hand moving to his face as he pulled rotting leaves, muck and who knows what else from his mouth. His face was covered in a thick layer of marshy muck. The sulfur smell strong in the stirred up mire. He gave his brother a half-assed smile as he sat up and wiped his face on the sleeve of Dean's coat. "Fucking hell, that's nasty." He spit onto the ground and once again wiped his face, this time on Dean's shoulder.

Dean made a face, but didn't push Sam away. He panted against the pain of his broken ribs and waited for the lightheaded feeling to die down. "You…okay…then?" He gasped out, holding his side.

Sam frowned. "Shit Dean, you're hurt." He moved away from his brother and looked him over. He was pale; his freckles standing out, even in the moonlight. His eyes were glassy and he cursed inwardly. Dean was sick. Dean had a fever. Dean was usually slow on a hunt when he was sick with a fever and here Sam had dragged him into the woods, in the middle of the winter. "You're sick."

Dean shrugged. "Ribs…not big deal."

Sam shook his head and reached out to pull a leaf from Dean's hair, taking a second to rest the back of his hand against his forehead. "You've got a fever, you idiot."

Dean nodded. "Yeah and it was a hundred and two before you dragged me out here." He let Sam help him up. "When I convulse, I'm blaming your ass." He giggled and leaned heavy on his brother's shoulder.

Sam groaned as he led them back to the car. Dean joking about febrile seizures wasn't funny, not that he'd had one since he was fourteen, but Sam could still remember how scared he'd been. "Not funny. Now come on, let's get back and tuck you in."

"Aw, you gonna take good care of me, Nurse Samantha?" Dean smirked and shivered violently.

"You call me that one more time and I'm going to kick your ass: sick or not."

Dean grunted. "In your dreams…"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You want anything before we get back?" He asked after he settled Dean into the passenger seat.

Dean nodded, but didn't answer.

"Well?"

"Oh come on Sammy, don't make me ask." Dean looked at his brother sheepishly.

"For shit sake Dean, you're freaking thirty years old." Sam started the car and shook his head.

"But Saaaammmm," Dean whined it out, "it's the only thing that makes me feel better."

Sam sighed and put the car into drive. "Fine. I'll get you ginger ale, chicken noodle soup, Vicks Vapo-rub, Puffs Plus, and Twizzlers." He rubbed his forehead when Dean made a disapproving sound in his throat. "Yeah, I know. I'll see if I can find a video store to rent a Godzilla movie."

"Mothra…" Dean nodded. "Want Godzilla vs. Mothra."

"Fine, and Mothra." Sam pulled the car onto the road and smiled. Dean was so predictable. It had taken a while but after the last time Dean had gotten a fever, Sam had found, Godzilla vs. Mothra and all the Godzilla movies. He had those and the rest of Dean's necessities packed in a box marked, _Sam's Hyperthermia Relief Kit_.


End file.
